


Thunderclaps of Men's Despair

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Actually He's Horrible at It, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, God Save Me From These Idiots, He is Very Good at Being a Dragon, Lucy "Fight Me" Preston is at it Again, Lucy: I'll Kick Your Ass I'll Kick My Mom's Ass I'll Kick My Own Ass I Don't Care, M/M, Multi, Not So Good at Being in Love, This Was Supposed to Be 5k Tops, Wyatt Logan's Bisexuality Crisis, Yes Flynn is the Dragon, and NOW LOOK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: They say there’s a dragon in the mountains. Princess Lucy certainly fucking hopes so. Sir Logan would just like everyone to not get burned to a crisp, please and thank you.





	Thunderclaps of Men's Despair

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The title is from the poem Mermaid Dragon Fiend by Robert Graves

Lucy moved through the corridor quietly, sticking to the shadows. There weren’t any guards patrolling the inner hallways of the castle, but it paid to be cautious.

She approached the oaken door carefully, knocking on it very softly once, twice, three times. The old signal.

“Wyatt.”

Once, they’d used to do this all the time, when they were children who didn’t fully understand how much trouble they could be in. They hadn’t done this in years, now.

There was a moment of silence, and then the door slowly creaked open. Wyatt poked his head out. “Luce—your highness?”

“Lucy, for goodness’ sake,” Lucy hissed, shoving her way past him into her room. “All day it’s ‘your highness this’ and ‘your highness that’, and if Emma thinks she can get away with calling me Princess one more time…”

Wyatt closed the door quietly behind her. “Could you at least try and keep your voice down?”

Lucy sat on the bed. “We can’t do it.”

Wyatt threw his hands into the air. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time. We need to smuggle you out, get you to Queen Denise’s kingdom…”

Lucy shook her head. “No, I mean we can’t do it alone. We need an ally.”

Wyatt closed his eyes as if praying for patience. “Do I even want to know who you have in mind?”

Lucy cleared her throat, knowing Wyatt wasn’t going to like it. “So. You know how there’s supposed to be a dragon in the mountains…?”

“Oh no.” Wyatt hurried over to her. “Lucy, no, are you insane!?”

“He’s our only hope!”

“If he exists—and dragons aren’t to be trusted, everybody knows that!”

“We have to do something. We can’t get aid from Mason or Denise, if we sound out a missive it’ll be intercepted. We can’t let Emma and my mother destroy the kingdom like this. What other choice to we have?”

Ever since Emma had weaseled her way into marrying Lucy’s grandfather, the kingdom had been on the brink of war. Not that King Nicholas had been all that great of a man, if you asked Lucy. But he’d done rather a lot of pontificating, announcing these grand schemes to take over other kingdoms and then barely doing anything about it.

But now that he was dying, Emma and Carol, Lucy’s mother, were not-so-subtly fighting for the crown.

Carol claimed it was hers by blood right, but Emma claimed it was hers by right of marriage. And neither was backing down.

It was only a matter of time until Nicholas died. And once he did, Lucy feared that the kingdom would explode into an all-out civil war.

“Emma’s been gathering allies for weeks,” she hissed. “And she was up to something and Amy knew what it was, I just know it, Wyatt. I won’t let my sister’s death go unavenged.”

Wyatt’s jaw tightened.

Princess Amy had died just a few days ago, falling off her horse. Or so they said.

Lucy knew better. Her sister had been an amazing rider. The guards who’d been with her must have been bought off. Before she’d died, she’d told Lucy that she had something on Emma—something that would turn the tide against her in the battle for the crown.

It wasn’t a coincidence that she’d died right after. Emma had killed her sister. And Lucy was going to make sure that Emma burned for that.

But now it meant that she couldn’t trust anyone. The guards with Amy that day had been loyal ones, or so Lucy had thought.

Only Wyatt was trustworthy. She’d grown up with Wyatt. For a time she’d thought they might even be more, before she’d learned that princesses were supposed to marry princes, and not knights.

And then Wyatt had met and fallen in love with Jess and it had all been a moot point.

“Your mother won’t be any better of a ruler than Emma will,” Wyatt replied. “Emma’s strong and your mom’s weak but they’re both vile, Lucy. I’m—I’m sorry. I know she’s your mother. But you know it’s true.”

Lucy nodded. She knew.

Emma had killed Amy.

But Carol had killed Jess.

Jess had been blonde and Lucy was a brunette, but Wyatt’s taste in women lay in their strong, stubborn nature. Jess had been Carol’s lady-in-waiting and had dared to repeatedly argue with Carol on her policies in front of others.

Jess had gone into early labor just two days later. Both she and the baby had been lost.

Lucy lay her hand over Wyatt’s. “We’ll take them both down, I promise. But we don’t have an army. We don’t have guards. Or funds.”

“Then just poison them,” Wyatt replied. “Like she did to Jess, like she did to my child.”

“How are we supposed to get the poison to them? Who can we trust among the servants, in the kitchen, how will we get it past the tester?”

Lucy tightened her grip on his hand, tugging him to sit down on the bed next to her. “The dragon can fly. It has fire. It’s like an army all on its own. If he’ll agree to work with us, we can storm the castle and I’ll win my throne, fair and square. For Amy and for Jess.”

Wyatt looked down at their joined hands. “He could burn us alive the moment he sees us. Why would he agree to help us?”

Lucy smiled. “Because, rumor has it, my grandfather’s the one who killed the dragon’s mate and youngling.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt did not like this plan.

He didn’t usually like Lucy’s plans. They were reckless, and not always fully thought-through, and had an annoying habit of working out like she had the gift of luck or something.

But he’d go along with it. He always would. Because she was Lucy, and he’d been in love with her since he’d even known what love was.

Even while he’d been with Jess, he’d been a bit in love with Lucy. He suspected that Jess knew, but she’d never said anything, because Jess had always been too good for him.

And Queen Carol had killed her.

Every time he saw the queen he wanted to wring her neck. He wanted to stab her in the stomach so that she could know some measure of the pain and horror that his wife had felt as she’d died, as she’d bled and screamed in Wyatt’s arms.

Queen-Consort Emma was no better. Carol had married a king, although she’d returned home to House Ritten with her two daughters after he died. She was the only child of Nicholas, and so she was next in line for his kingdom as well. Emma had been a noblewoman, supposedly, although there were rumors she was a commoner who’d managed to pass herself off. She was married to the king and named consort, therefore his equal in political power.

The resulting jockeying between the two queens had been consuming the court for weeks.

Wyatt knew that Emma could hurt Lucy at any moment, if only to hurt Carol. If Amy hadn’t been safe when surrounded by guards she’d known since birth, then Lucy wasn’t safe any time. Wyatt had taken to secretly sleeping in her room at night, climbing in through the window, since they couldn’t trust the guards at her door.

But to trust a dragon? If said dragon actually existed. He was supposedly the reason for the scorching scars on the castle, the result of his tirade against Nicholas in the early years of his reign after he’d killed the dragon’s mate and child. But it could very well just be a fanciful or exaggerated tale. People were always making things up.

Wyatt was so lost in thought that he ran smack into someone.

“Daydreaming again, Sir Wyatt? And here I thought knights were chosen for their alertness.”

The voice was deep, annoyingly attractive, and attached to the equally annoyingly attractive body of Lord Flynn.

Wyatt glared at him. Lord Flynn had taken a huge liking to Lucy from the moment he’d set foot in court a few months ago. As if Lucy needed another suitor sniffing at her heels.

It didn’t help that next to nothing was known about Flynn. He seemed to know an awful lot about the courts of the surrounding kingdoms, and he had more than enough wealth to spare, but nobody knew his lineage, his family, or his kingdom of origin. Whenever Wyatt had tried to find out, Flynn had dodged the question.

He also seemed to be flirting with him, but Wyatt had to be imagining that part.

“Pretty sure you’re not allowed in this section of the castle, my lord,” Wyatt replied. “I hope you’re not thinking of going to the princess’s chambers.”

“I believe sneaking into the princess’s room is your hobby, sir,” Flynn replied.

Wyatt’s blood went cold. Did Flynn know he’d been guarding Lucy at night? If so, did that mean he was spying on them? Was he working for Emma?

Flynn chuckled. “Never fear, Logan. Whatever you and the princess choose to do at night is no business of mine unless you want it to be.”

“We’re not—” Wyatt glared at him. He would never do anything with Lucy. He knew his place. He’d never take advantage of her or subject her to gossip.

Then the rest of what Flynn had said caught up with him. “Wait. Unless what?”

“Sir Wyatt!” It was Queen Carol. “Where on earth is my daughter? I must see her at once!”

“Yes, your majesty,” Wyatt said with a bow. He sent Flynn a final glare—and definitely did not check out how he filled out his suit—before hurrying off.

He could feel Flynn’s dark eyes on him the whole time, but why, he wasn’t sure.

 

* * *

 

Lucy ignored Wyatt as she swung up into the saddle. “If you say ‘this is stupid’ one more time, Wyatt, I’ll be going without you.”

Wyatt shut up, but his expression spoke volumes as he swung up onto his horse.

They were leaving now, under the cover of night, to get to the dragon’s lair. Or, rather, the mountains where his lair was supposed to be located, if Jiya’s information was correct. Some people said that Jiya was a witch. If you asked Jiya, she just saw things that others couldn’t.

With a little luck, they should be home in time for breakfast with nobody the wiser.

“How did you even find out about this witch?” Wyatt asked, quietly leading their horses through the courtyard.

“Her name is Jiya. And I heard the servants talking about her. They sometimes go to her if they want to see the future.”

“And you believe her.”

“Yes. I asked her for proof.”

“And she gave it?”

Lucy nodded.

She’d asked Jiya to find Amy. Jiya had said she couldn’t talk to the dead, but she could see into the past, and she’d told Lucy about how Amy used to soak her hair in a paste with strawberries, and that Lucy would bury her nose in Amy’s hair when they were hugging.

Lucy and Amy had only hugged in private. It wasn’t proper to show such physical affection in public. Jiya might have been able to learn about the strawberry scent from someone, perhaps a servant who had served Amy, but there was no way Jiya could have known about Lucy burying her face in Amy’s hair.

“Let us ride,” she said. Amy’s death was too fresh—she couldn’t think about it without pain.

They rode through the darkness, doing their best to follow the route that Jiya had seen in her mind and then detailed for Lucy. It was a treacherous path, and there were a few times where Lucy was afraid that they’d fall off the side of the mountain. As they climbed, the air got thinner, the trees fewer and farther between.

And then she saw it.

A thin slit cave in the side of the mountain. Scorch marks around it. Just as Jiya had said.

Wyatt saw it too, sliding off his horse and leading it to the side. “They’ll spook,” he whispered. “Let’s tie them up here.”

Lucy dismounted, double checking that the dagger she’d hidden in her skirts was still there. Probably not much use against a dragon, but still. It made her feel better to have it.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Wyatt whispered, drawing his sword.

Lucy shook her head. They needed this ally. They all three had a grudge against House Ritten. There was no one else she could trust.

Wyatt sighed. “Onward, then.”

They crept up to the mouth of the cave, peering in. “It looks a little small to hold a dragon, doesn’t it?” Wyatt asked.

Lucy moved forward carefully, sticking to the shadows. “It seems to get bigger in the back.”

They moved forward carefully, picking their way through the rocks. There was a sound up ahead—roaring, rhythmic.

What was that? A waterfall?

The cave turned, and as they went around the corner, Lucy stopped dead. Wyatt nearly ran into her.

It wasn’t a waterfall. It was snoring.

The dragon—the honest to God, hand over heart, larger than life dragon—was curled up on an immense pile of gold like the world’s biggest cliché, snoring away.

He was actually… kind of beautiful. Dark burgundy scales, curled up kind of like a cat, delicately curved horns that swept up behind on either side of his head, and a tail that swished lazily back and forth.

“Holy shit,” Wyatt murmured.

Of course, the dragon had super hearing.

He woke with a start, smoke spiraling up out of his nostrils. His eyes opened, revealing dark eyes that look oddly familiar to her.

Although that could’ve been the human intelligence she saw in them. Not animal at all.

“You’re afraid,” the dragon rumbled in a deep voice. “I can smell it on you.”

Lucy stepped forward. Shoulders back, head up high, neck loose, like her father had taught her. Walk like you’re stepping on the skulls of your enemies, like her mother had taught her. “I think your nose is stopped up.”

The dragon gave a rasping chuckle. “I wasn’t talking to you, princess.”

Wyatt stepped forward, sword out in front of him. “I’d watch your words, lizard.”

“Lizard? He’s getting feisty.” The dragon’s lips stretched back into what might have been a smile.

“We need your help,” Lucy said. “And we think that we can help you.”

“With your mother and your…” the dragon chuckled, “grandmother. Yes.”

“My grandfather. King Nicholas. He killed your mate and child when he was a young man.”

The dragon growled and raised his head up, exposing a belly of pale gold scales. “He slaughtered them where they slept. Creatures who had never hurt him. All to prove his strength. He is a weak king. And a cruel man.”

“Then help to right that wrong,” Lucy begged. “If either Emma or my mother takes the throne they will be just as bad.”

“And you, princess?” the dragon asked. “Would you be a good ruler.”

That took Lucy back. She’d been so worried about preventing either her mother or Emma getting the upper hand that she hadn’t even thought about her own reign, and if she’d be good at it.

“Of course she will,” Wyatt said. Loyal, loyal Wyatt. “She’ll be the best queen we’ve ever had.”

“I wasn’t asking you, knight,” the dragon grumbled. “I am speaking only to Lucy.”

Something about how he said her name was familiar, like his eyes.

Wyatt snorted.

“I don’t know,” Lucy admitted. “I’m going to try. I hope I’ll be better—I think I’ll be better—than Emma or my mother. But I don’t know that anyone can say for certainty that they’ll be a good leader. I can only promise that I’ll try.”

The dragon looked at her for a long moment.

“And what about you?” Lucy asked. “Can I trust you that you won’t hurt more people than you have to? Can I trust you to listen to me? To not burn my kingdom down for spite?”

For a moment, the dragon was still as a statue. Then he dipped his head down, once.

“You’re going to trust that,” Wyatt said. “Just his word? That’s it?”

“My word is all that he can trust either,” Lucy pointed out.

“And what is your plan, princess?” the dragon asked.

Lucy took a deep breath. “When my grandfather dies, both queens are going to try to take the throne. We need to be ready. They might try to assassinate one another but I think it’s going to spill into all-out war.

“I need a way to summon you when that happens. If you can distract their armies, Wyatt can get me to the queens.” Lucy took a deep breath. “I can… take care of it from there.”

The dragon tilted his head. “You would kill your grandfather’s consort. Yes. For your sister. But your own mother?”

“If she can’t,” Wyatt growled, “I will.”

If the dragon had eyebrows, Lucy was pretty sure he’d be raising them.

“Queen Carol killed my wife,” Wyatt said, the words sounding like they’d been scraped raw out of his throat. “And my unborn child. I’ll happily take that burden from Lucy.”

“And is it only for revenge?” the dragon asked. He was definitely teasing Wyatt now, Lucy could tell. “No other reason why you’d make such a sacrifice for your princess?”

“Lucy and I aren’t—”

“What I do, and who I do it with, isn’t anyone’s business,” Lucy said crisply.

The dragon bowed his head at her again, this time more slowly, as though he were offering his fealty. “I apologize, princess. It’s not my business.”

“He’s just trying to press my buttons.” Wyatt glared. “For some reason.”

“Because it’s amusing,” the dragon replied, a rumble of what could have been laughter in his stomach.

“How will we summon you?” Lucy asked. “When the time comes?”

The dragon tilted his head. “I will be there.”

Lucy couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was how the dragon was bowing to her, or the way that he looked at her. Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed so familiar to her. But she trusted him.

“Very well.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was in the stables when the man approached him. He recognized him, vaguely. “You’re a messenger, aren’t you?” he asked.

The man nodded. “Rufus.”

“Wyatt.”

“I’ve heard that if I need to speak to the princess,” Rufus said quietly, “you’re the one to go to. You can get me an audience.”

“The princess holds audiences every week.”

“With her mother and the queen consort. I need to speak to her privately.”

Wyatt frowned, putting his hand on his sword pommel. “What about?”

Rufus gave him a grin. “I hear she’s in need of an army.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy made her way through the hallway. Wyatt had whispered to her quickly as he’d passed her in the great hall earlier, “I’m bringing a guest tonight.”

Now it was evening, the shadows stretching long and dark purple along the stones. She would be retiring to bed. And when Wyatt snuck in to guard her, he’d be bringing someone with him.

Who? They must have done a lot, to get Wyatt to trust them enough to let them near Lucy.

“Princess.”

Lucy paused, turning. “Lord Flynn.”

He bowed to her. “I hope you are not thinking that you and your knight are subtle.”

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. “What I do and who I do it with is none of your business.”

Flynn quickly backtracked. “No, I did not—I apologize. That is not what I meant.”

This close to him, she could see the dark gray-brown of his eyes. Familiar gray-brown.

“I meant only your plans,” Flynn said, lowering his voice. “I have noticed that you two are up to something. And if I have noticed, then so have others. You cannot be safe.”

“And what do you care?” Lucy asked.

Flynn tilted his head. “Perhaps I would like to see you come out the victor in this impending war.”

“And perhaps you have an agenda of your own,” she replied. “It is quite odd, is it not, my lord, how you dodge the question of your homeland and family. You arrived right when my grandfather began to grow ill. I think I am not the only one who is scheming in this court.”

Flynn gazed at her for a moment, with something that looked like admiration in his eyes. “Tell me, Lucy. Do you think you would make a good queen?”

Lucy stared up at him. The way that he said her name… the voice was not so deep, of course, but then, it was coming from a much smaller chest cavity. And the question that he asked—could it be?

“I do not know,” she told him. “But I am going to try. What of you, my lord? Would you make a good king?”

Flynn gave her a small smile. “No. I am far too vengeful for that. Be careful, princess. You and your knight are strong, but you cannot go it just the two of you alone.”

He bowed, and Lucy stared after him as he walked away.

Hmm.

 

* * *

 

“You’re what,” Lucy said.

“I know it sounds a little pie in the sky,” Rufus said. “But it’s been building for years. We’ve been funded by King Mason and have recently sent out missives to Queen Denise to see if she will also lend us aid.”

“I’ve checked up on it,” Wyatt assured her.

Lucy had her thoughtful face on, the one where she pressed her lips together and her eyes grew bright. “A revolution brewing. And my grandfather has no idea.”

“The war between your mother and the queen consort has distracted him,” Rufus said matter-of-factly. “We’ve been able to build up a strong following. And we’re willing to follow you.”

“What I want to know,” Lucy asked, “Is how you knew to approach me.”

Rufus smiled. “Jiya is my intended. She says she can see you becoming a good queen. And I trust what she sees.”

Lucy looked over at Wyatt. He never understood why she looked at him for his thoughts. He was just a knight. She was the one who was going to be queen. She was the leader, not him.

But he appreciated it, all the same.

“I trust him,” Wyatt told her.

Lucy nodded, and looked over at Rufus. “We will happily accept your assistance.”

Wyatt felt the knot in his chest loosen.

At least now they had more allies than that stupid dragon.

With the annoyingly attractive voice.

 

* * *

 

“Lucy?”

She turned, forcing a smile as she saw her mother. She did love her mother. That was what made all of this so hard. But the woman that her mother had been while Lucy was growing up was not the woman she was today. Lucy hadn’t realized until coming to King Nicholas’s court how much of a good influence her father had been on her mother. The past few years she had watched her mother regress into someone as scheming and power hungry as Nicholas. And the arrival of Emma had only made it all worse.

Lucy loved her mother.

But her mother had to die.

“Yes?” she asked, keeping the smile on.

“Oh, darling, you won’t believe the news,” Carol said, approaching her. “I could hardly believe it myself when I heard. But it seems that mysterious dragon has finally returned.”

Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat. Was he breaking their bargain? Hurting her people even after he had promised her that he wouldn’t? Had she truly placed her trust in the wrong person?

“What has he been doing?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Mostly just flying around. A few abandoned buildings were scorched.” Carol frowned. “I would bet you anything that this is Emma’s doing. She would lure the dragon in—or create a false dragon with her tricks.”

Lucy sighed. “Mother. I don’t think that Emma would be interested in allying herself with the dragon that is the sworn enemy of her husband.”

“Do not underestimate that woman,” Carol hissed. “Now that the dragon has appeared this changes things. You must go away. We have to keep you safe.”

“What? No. Mother, I’m not leaving. Not when our people need us. They’ll be nervous with Grandfather passing and the line of succession not yet secure.”

“Oh, it will be secure all right.” Carol’s eyes flashed. “We’ll get rid of that upstart, don’t you worry. You just stay out of it and let me handle it.”

“I don’t want to stay out of it. This is my kingdom as well, my responsibility.”

“That dragon could snatch you out of the air—”

“We don’t _know_ the dragon is working for Emma.”

“Do you want to die like your sister?” Carol hissed.

It felt as though she’d been gut punched. Lucy swallowed, her eyes burning, and she looked away.

“I can’t lose another daughter,” Carol said. “Your grandfather has grown soft in his old age. Indulging this—this hag is just another sign that it’s fated he pass on into the afterlife. Things will be different around here, you’ll see. And you’ll be safe.”

“And how high will the taxes be?” Lucy shot back, feeling reckless and angry. “How many other serving women will die because they contradicted you?”

“If you are speaking of Jessica—”

“She died in _agony_.”

“She had a miscarriage.”

Lucy wanted to scream, to punch at the walls. How stupid, how blind, did her mother think that she was?

“This is not the time for us to be divided,” Carol advised—or warned. Lucy could never be sure. Once she had known her mother as she would a favorite book, every gesture and expression spelled out for her. Now, Carol was as unknown and as dangerous as Emma, if only in different ways. “Emma will try to use that against us. You don’t know when she’ll strike. She’s vile, Lucy. We must get rid of her.”

Lucy sighed. “Well, whatever you believe, I’m not going to stay locked up in my room like I’m in some kind of fairy tale. Dragon or no dragon. I’m going to do what I know to be right for my people.”

“Then you would do as I say,” Carol replied.

Lucy frowned. “I’m not sure if what you say, what you want, is what’s best for our kingdom.”

Carol’s face flushed and she looked about to yell, but then someone awkwardly cleared their throat.

Lucy turned to see Lord Flynn standing there, looking like a man who’d walked into a minefield and now very much wanted to find the safest and quickest path out of it. “Ah, your highness, I apologize, it was only that…”

“I was late for our meeting, of course!” Lucy said, seizing him by the arm.

Flynn looked even more alarmed than before.

“Meeting?” Carol said. She turned her icy gaze onto Flynn, who looked at Lucy.

“Lord Flynn has been so kind as to offer to show me the crop rotation cycle he uses for his lands,” Lucy blurted out.

Flynn looked like he’d never heard of a crop rotation cycle in his life. “Um. Yes. Ah, precisely. Your majesty.”

Privately Lucy thought that this was a hilarious chance to throw the mysterious Lord Flynn off balance. She was starting to wonder if he was really as suave and put together as she’d always thought or if he only managed to appear that way because he never said anything and lurked in the shadows like the brooding hero of a romantic fairy tale.

Carol hummed, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “This discussion isn’t over, Lucy. We have to act quickly.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Once her mother was gone, Lucy sagged in relief. “Perfect timing.”

“Care to explain what that was about?” Flynn asked, detangling himself from her like he was going to get burned.

“Oh, just my mother trying to get me to hide away or run away like some shrinking violet,” Lucy said. “As if I have no right to be here.”

Flynn looked over at where Carol had disappeared. “She and Emma will tear this kingdom apart.”

Lucy arched an eyebrow at him. “You sound almost gleeful at the prospect.”

Flynn shrugged. “You have to admit that the legacy of House Ritten has not been… a positive one.”

“Well, I am House Ritten on my mother’s side but I am my father’s daughter as well, House Wallace.” Lucy straightened her shoulders. “And it is not my mother’s legacy that I intend to continue.”

Flynn frowned. “She does have a point. If you stay here, it will not be safe much longer.”

“Do you suggest that I run away as well, then?”

“You’re an adult and perfectly capable of making your own choices. But you will need allies.”

“I have one.”

“Yes, your loyal knight. The entire castle has noticed.”

“Not only him.” She had an army now, led by Rufus, and the dragon.

Something amused flickered in Flynn’s eyes. “Who?”

Lucy smiled at him, slow and triumphant, and Flynn got the look of a startled deer that suddenly realized it was in the sights of a hunter. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She turned and walked away, flush with victory, but then Flynn called out, “Are you referring to the creature that’s recently made a fiery reappearance in these parts?”

Lucy paused, then turned to look back at him. Flynn was the one looking triumphant now.

“And what would you know about it, Flynn?”

Flynn’s face faltered again. Lucy strode up to him, getting right in his face—or as much as she could, given their height difference. “You know, it is rather mysterious how you came to be in court, and how much you seem to know, and the small matter of where your wealth comes from. It’s almost enough to make a lady suspicious.”

“I could say the same about your actions. Sneaking out of the castle, consorting with a witch and her rabble-rousing boyfriend, it’s enough to make a lord suspicious.”

“My question,” Lucy went on, “is why wouldn’t you simply reveal yourself to me here. If you knew what I was looking for. Why retreat back to your lair and have me go all the way up there to gain an alliance?”

“Maybe I wanted to test you.”

“Or maybe you showed up at court and now don’t know what to do about it, now that you’re here,” Lucy replied.

Flynn glared at her. “I know what I’m doing. I have my own plans.”

“Then why wait around and let me dictate your actions? Hmm? Why wait at my beck and call?”

Something—something she couldn’t quite read crossed over Flynn’s face, something that oddly enough reminded her of how Wyatt would look at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Lucy realized how close they were standing, the way she could just get up on her tiptoes and kiss him, and how easy it would be—not just how easy but how much she wanted it. Flynn had been watching her since he’d arrived at court, and she hadn’t been unaware of it. But now it felt like the shoe was on the other foot, that he was the one going _oh no oh no she likes me_ and panicking while Lucy was the one in control, the one who could take a step and send him to his knees.

It was intoxicating, to say the least.

“Maybe I came here and saw something that I didn’t expect,” Flynn confessed. “Maybe I saw a woman who wasn’t a spoiled princess. A woman who wanted to do right by her people. A woman who was willing to go against her own family if that was what it took.”

His voice was soft, almost reverent, and Lucy had to catch her breath at the sound of it. Like he was pledging himself to her, in voice if not in words.

Lucy searched his eyes. Eyes that she had seen staring out at her from burgundy scales in a cave, she was certain of it now. “And you stayed for me. Not because my grandfather lies sickly and dying.”

“Believe me, Lucy, if I wanted to take advantage of my position, your grandfather would not be getting off so easily as to die slowly in his sickbed,” Flynn hissed. Never had his voice sounded so draconic as in that moment. But Lucy wasn’t backing down.

“He started getting sick once _you_ arrived in court.”

“Your grandfather put my wife and child to the sword,” Flynn growled, fire flashing in his eyes. “I would not let him die by something as underhanded as poison. He will look me in the eye when he burns and he will know who snatched the life from him.”

It was like being in a cage with a tiger and Lucy knew she should be scared, but she felt exhilarated instead, knowing all of that rage wasn’t flung at her but was instead harnessed in service to her.

And then she remembered who else had arrived at court at the same time as Flynn, right before her grandfather started getting sick.

“Emma,” she breathed.

Flynn looked surprised by the change in subject. “What about her?”

Emma. That must have been what Amy had discovered, that was why—her sweet baby sister—

Oh, Emma wanted a war? She was getting a war. Lucy had to talk to Rufus. She wasn’t letting Emma live another day on this goddamn earth.

“Lucy?” Flynn was looking at her with concern. “Lucy, what—”

“Soon,” she told him, backing away down the corridor. “Be ready.”

Flynn stared at her in confusion as Lucy hurried away.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt hadn’t been able to find Lucy all day.

Who he was able to find, annoyingly, was Flynn, staring down the corridor like someone had told him that gravity had been reversed.

“Hey,” Wyatt called out. “Have you seen Lucy?”

Flynn turned around. “She just went that direction. Tell me, do you always go where she goes? Is it a part of the contract?”

Wyatt glared at him. “Would it kill you to try not being an asshole for two seconds?”

Flynn seemed to genuinely consider that. “It might, actually. I’ve never tried it.”

“Do me a favor. Try.”

Flynn observed Wyatt for a moment, then cocked his head at him. “I’m not sure that you actually want me to.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes at him. “Trust me, it’s one of my fondest wishes. I dream about the day you lose your voice.”

Flynn got a gleam in his eyes, one that looked oddly familiar, and then crossed over to Wyatt. Wyatt stepped back, startled, only to find his back pressed against the wall.

“That’s not what you dream about,” Flynn said, as if he had somehow crawled inside of Wyatt’s head and saw the half-remembered, hazy dreams Wyatt had, the ones with someone small and soft in his arms but someone lean and strong behind him, sliding large, callused hands over his sides, two mouths kissing down his skin.

“And how would you know?” Wyatt challenged, hoping nothing of what he was thinking showed in his voice. Dammit, he made enough of a fool himself over Lucy, the whole damn court could tell. He didn’t need to make a fool of himself over—over—

Flynn took a step closer again and Wyatt grabbed Flynn’s arms, shoving at him. “Go. Away.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure you’re lying.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Flynn leaned in, nosing along Wyatt’s neck. Wyatt tightened his grip on Flynn’s arms—but no longer to get away. “I can smell it on you,” Flynn growled.

He turned his head the barest bit so that his lips were now scraping along Wyatt’s jaw. Wyatt tugged him closer, almost against his own will. Fuck, he was aching and hot all over and they hadn’t even kissed yet. Hadn’t done anything, really, just stood pressed up against each other in the damn hallway. Flynn’s skin was hot, feverishly so, and Wyatt wanted it all over him…

Flynn gave a low, rumbling groan. “I know every time you think about it,” he whispered. His voice curled up at the base of Wyatt’s spine like a snake of molten lava. “Because your scent spikes.”

His leg pressed in and up and _oh_. A small whimper escaped Wyatt without his permission. He felt laid bare and open, and he wanted nothing more in that moment then to have Flynn devour him the way Flynn seemed so eager to—

Flynn rolled his hips, just a little bit, like he was testing. Wyatt’s hand slid up to wrap around Flynn’s shoulders, anchoring himself, meeting Flynn’s next movement with his own. Flynn tilted his head more and they were almost kissing, panting into each other’s mouths, and Wyatt suddenly realized that he wasn’t above begging for Flynn to kiss him to take him…

The sound of approaching footsteps echoing over the stones was the only warning they got.

Flynn stepped back, leaving the space where he’d been empty and cold. Wyatt lurched, nearly losing his balance. He hadn’t even been aware of how much he’d been leaning on Flynn.

He tried desperately to calm himself down as the approaching person rounded the corner.

It was a servant.

The girl continued past them, bobbing her head in deference, intent on her task.

Wyatt thought his chest might explode with relief. He looked over at Flynn. Just a moment ago he’d been ready to beg for the other man, and now… now he didn’t know. He felt lost. Adrift.

Flynn looked startled. Off-kilter. His eyes were dark and unreadable. “You’d best go and find the princess. I have a feeling she’s about to do something terribly brave and terribly reckless.”

“Flynn—” Wyatt didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

For once, Flynn looked like he was the one who didn’t know what to do. “I’ll… be seeing you both later,” he got out, and then turned and strode quickly away down the corridor.

Wyatt cursed silently. Now he had to deal with a very frustrated state of mind—and, apparently, find Lucy.

 

* * *

 

When Lucy came back from her meeting with Rufus at Jiya’s hut, Wyatt was there.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked in a whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody had followed her before bolting the door shut. “Flynn’s worried about you, and if that guy is worried then you’re doing something reckless.”

“I was talking with Rufus. We need to mobilize now, arrest Emma for crimes against the kingdom.”

“Wait—what, why? What did she do?”

“She’s been poisoning the king,” Lucy said. Anger was hot in her veins, burning her from the inside out. Emma had killed her sister and now she knew why, because Amy would expose her, and Lucy had never wanted to see someone die in her life before but she did now. “That’s what Amy must have found out and wanted to tell me, but she couldn’t because—but—but that was why Emma had her killed.”

Lucy began to pace, too restless to stay still. “I thought that it was Flynn poisoning Nicholas, for revenge, but now…”

“Wait, why would Flynn be poisoning the king?” Wyatt asked, confused.

Lucy stared at him. “Because he’s the dragon, Wyatt.”

Wyatt’s mouth fell open. “He’s _what_.”

“Didn’t you guess?”

Wyatt’s face went bright pink. “…oh.”

“Oh? What do you mean, oh? What’s that face for?”

“Nothing,” Wyatt said quickly. “But Lucy, you can’t—Emma has half the guards on her payroll.”

“And my mother has the other half, between them and Rufus’s army we can overcome Emma’s faction. We’ll have her arrested and tried and then once she’s out of the way we can deal with my mother.”

“And where would you be in all of this, huh?” Wyatt asked. “You’ll be right in the middle of it, won’t you?”

“I’m letting no one kill her but me,” Lucy snarled. “It’s my responsibility and—and it’s my right, she took Amy from me.”

Wyatt caught her by the shoulders, literally halting her in her tracks. “Lucy. She’ll kill you. You’re not trained to fight, she is.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Lucy—”

“She killed my sister, Wyatt. My _sister_. Amy never did anybody a bad turn, not ever, and now—I couldn’t prove it but I can prove this, Nicholas isn’t dead yet, the doctors can prove he was poisoned and she can be tried and I can—Wyatt I want to hurt her so badly, I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone but I want—I want to make her _bleed_ , Wyatt—”

“And I get that. Believe me, I do. But Lucy. If you go to arrest her she won’t go down easy and she will kill you.”

“Then let her try.”

“No!”

“And why not?”

“Because I lost one woman I loved,” Wyatt spat out, “and I’m not losing another one!”

They had never—they had never said out loud, the thing between them. The one that had existed before Jess, that had then cropped up again this last month after Jess and Amy’s deaths, the one that Lucy had ignored because it wasn’t time, it wasn’t time, they never had time. Besides, she hadn’t been the one happily married, the one starting a family, the one who’d lost a wife. It hadn’t been her thing to say.

But she’d known, how could she not have known when Wyatt was screaming it in everything he did, in the way he’d been obsessively protecting her, the way he was looking at her now, like he could already see her dying and it was breaking him apart.

Lucy felt something inside of her crack and she pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around him. Wyatt held her, his arms shaking, like she was going to crumble to dust in his arms if he didn’t hold her tightly enough.

“I couldn’t save her,” he whispered. “But I can save you, please, Lucy. You’re all I’ve got left.”

Lucy turned her head, kissing his neck, his jaw, his cheek. Part of her wanted to take him to bed and learn him until they forgot the world outside, at least for a few hours, but she had the fire in her stomach now and she knew only one thing would put it out:

Emma’s death.

“I love you,” she whispered. “But I won’t hide away. Not for my mother and not for you. Not for anyone.”

She kissed, hard, causing Wyatt to stumble back a little in surprise before his hands caught her hips and he tilted his head to deepen it. She tried to memorize the softness of him, the way that he held her like she was something precious, the way his skin felt underneath her hands.

Then she pulled away while he was still dazed, before he could stop her.

She was avenging Amy, and nobody could stop her.

Not even a man she loved.

 

* * *

 

Of course Emma and Carol were arguing in the main hall. Because what else would they be doing at suppertime.

Lucy had Rufus in position, ready to strike when the bells for evensong tolled. That would be in about… ten minutes.

She squared her shoulders and strode into the court. “Queen-Consort Emma.”

Behind Lucy, the doctor she’d all but dragged into the room with her was already cowering.

Everyone turned to stare as Lucy stopped in the middle of the court in front of Emma. “What is the meaning of this, Lucy?” Carol asked.

“Guards, arrest this woman,” Lucy said. “She’s guilty of poisoning the king and arranging for the murder of Princess Amy.”

Emma sneered. “It seems the princess has finally gone mad in her grief. What nonsense are you spouting now?”

Lucy gestured at the doctor. “I had this man examine King Nicholas. A physician that you have not paid off. He found evidence that the king is being slowly poisoned with wolfsbane.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “And he will attest to this?”

Lucy nodded. “Yes.”

“And what of your proof about my supposedly causing that tragic accident that took Princess Amy’s life?” Emma added.

“I do not have full evidence yet, only what she told me before she did. But I will have it.”

Carol’s mouth was agape. “You—you snake.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Carol, like you weren’t thinking of offing the worthless old man yourself.”

She turned to Lucy. “I believe that I have the right to invoke trial by combat?”

That took Lucy aback. “What?”

“Trial by combat. I can face my accuser and if I win, then I have proven my innocence.”

“I have proof,” Lucy replied. “Trial by combat is only if the accuser has no proof to back up their claim.”

Emma turned and nodded at the guards.

Two guards grabbed the doctor and stabbed him as the other guards closed in around them, forming a circle.

“What proof?” Emma asked sweetly.

Lucy’s blood boiled. All right. Fine. Trial by combat?

She’d find a way to handle that.

Lucy stuck her hand out. “Give me a sword. At least you’re willing to kill me face to face instead of underhandedly, like everyone else.”

A guard handed Lucy her sword. It was heavier than she’d expected. She should have taken Wyatt up on his offer to train her. There was no way she was going to win this.

But the evensong bells were chiming. Rufus and the citizens would be mobilizing.

She would just have to hope that they would get to her in time.

Lucy raised the sword.

“Come at me, then.”

Emma came at her with a yell, but the blood was roaring in Lucy’s ears, her rage reaching its peak, and when Emma swung her sword, so did she.

Even if she didn’t come out of this alive, she was taking Emma down with her.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt banged on the door to Flynn’s chambers, cursing under his breath. “C’mon, you overgrown lizard, c’mon, you better be in there.”

The door flew open and Flynn glared at him. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Wyatt grabbed him, yanking him out into the corridor. “Lucy’s in trouble.”

Flynn’s face hardened. “What.”

“She went after Emma, she was—she was angry, but Emma’s got the upper hand—she said you were the dragon, Flynn, and if she was right, please.” Wyatt realized that his hands were still gripping Flynn’s shirt but he didn’t care. “I’m only one guy, I can’t get through the ranks, she’s used the soldiers she bought off to block the way and—you have to help me get to her. She’ll kill her, she’ll kill the only good thing this kingdom’s got left.”

Flynn grabbed him, practically dragging Wyatt down the corridor. “You’re not allowed to freak out, all right?”

“Um…”

“This is not what I intended when I’d been hinting I wanted you to ride me, by the way,” Flynn added. “You’re probably the first man to ride a dragon in about a hundred years so we’re not talking about this or I’ll never hear the end of it from Denise and the others.”

“Queen Denise is a dragon!?” Wyatt blurted out—and then caught up with the first part of the sentence. “And for the record, what the hell are you coming onto me for, I thought you liked Lucy.”

“What can I say, I’m a dragon, blame it on greed if it makes you feel better,” Flynn said. “Or you can stop that annoying denial thing you have going on and admit you were looking at me from the minute I stepped into this stupid court.”

“I was only looking at you because you were looking at Lucy.”

“Sure thing, Sir Wyatt, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

As they were walking, Flynn was… changing. It was like Wyatt’s eyesight was blurry, and every time he blinked he saw something different. Scales where there had been skin. Wings where there had been none.

And then Flynn wasn’t Flynn at all, but a dragon.

Wyatt wished he could say that he was dignified about it, but in reality he blurted out, “Holy _shit,_ ” and scrambled out of the way of the dragon’s tail.

Said tail then scooped him up and deposited him on the dragon’s neck. “Hold on,” Flynn said, his voice much, much deeper coming out of that larger diaphragm, and then they were taking off.

Oh holy _shit_.

 

* * *

 

Lucy dodged another one of Emma’s blows, swinging her sword up just in time to parry Emma as she brought hers down.

“And here I thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Emma mused, stepping back. “I suppose I overestimated you. A pity.”

The castle suddenly shook, and there was a vicious roar that seemed to reverberate through the very stones of the place.

Lucy grinned. “I hope it’s all right that I brought some friends?”

The dragon burst through the doors, flames spurting out of its mouth, eyes snapping as it took in the situation.

“Lucy!” Wyatt slid off the dragon’s neck, rushing over to her, but Emma held up her sword.

“Not so fast, lover boy,” Emma cooed. “Princess and I have some unfinished business.”

“I knew any wife of Nicholas’s would be as cold and cowardly at heart as he was,” the dragon—Flynn—growled, advancing on Emma.

Emma backed up, her eyes going wide with fear as she realized that a gigantic fire breathing creature of magic was bearing down on her. “You—you’re a legend, you’re just some story Nicholas told to make himself sound powerful, you’re—”

“I’m real enough to kill you, I can promise you that,” Flynn growled back at her.

Emma’s eyes flicked to the side—and Lucy knew what was going to happen, could see it in her eyes but was powerless to stop it—as Emma leapt, grabbing Carol by the hair and putting her sword to Carol’s throat.

“I’ll kill her,” she hissed. “Is that what you want? Huh? You’re Lucy’s little pet, aren’t you? Just like the knight, everybody wants to serve the precious princess.”

“She’s no better than you are,” Flynn replied, smoke curling up out of his nostrils.

One word, Lucy knew. One word from her and Flynn would attack, he would, he’d try and save Carol even as the knife bit into her mother’s neck.

Her mother. The woman who taught her the history of the lands, the woman who sang her lullabies, the one who held her when she was small and braided her hair, her fingers soft and soothing.

Her mother, who had killed a pregnant woman for daring to stand up to her. Who would start a war for the throne.

Lucy closed her eyes.

“Lucy?” Carol asked, and Lucy could hear the fear in her voice, could picture her mother’s face.

She wasn’t just a person, though. She wasn’t just a woman with a mother. She was a princess. Just like her mother had always taught her. And princesses didn’t think about themselves. They thought about what was good for their people. They served.

And Carol wasn’t good for anybody.

Lucy opened her eyes.

“Go ahead,” she told Emma.

“I’m not bluffing,” Emma replied.

Lucy didn’t think she was breathing. “I know.”

Emma stabbed Carol in the stomach.

Carol screamed, and Lucy forced herself to keep her eyes open. Forced herself to see. She felt Wyatt’s hands on her shoulders but it was muffled, like she wasn’t really there, she was just watching this through a dream.

Emma pulled the sword out, glaring at Flynn as if daring him to do something about it.

Flynn did.

He roared, turning his head, obliterating Emma’s soldiers, laying waste to them. Outside, Lucy could hear the clash of swords—Rufus leading the charge outside.

Wyatt drew his sword. “Stay back,” he told her.

He and Emma met in the middle, but Lucy wasn’t staying still—she ran to her mother.

Carol was lying on the ground, still clinging to life. Lucy hauled her up into her arms. “Mama.”

Carol stared up at her. “You…”

“I did what you taught me.” Lucy brushed the hair out of her mom’s face. “What was right for the kingdom.”

“I… I was right for the kingdom,” Carol hissed, rage contorting her face.

Lucy shook her head. “No, Mother. I’m sorry, but no.”

“You… is this… because of that… woman?”

“That woman was named Jessica.”

“A kingdom is more than just—one person,” Carol managed to spit out.

Lucy wiped at her eyes, frustrated that her mother didn’t understand, that she might never have understood—or that she had understood once, before she’d come back to this place, this kingdom, and fell under the influence of her father again. “But a kingdom is made up of people. How can we rule hundreds if we cannot be kind to just one?”

Carol stared at her, angry and uncomprehending, until the light faded from her eyes.

Lucy gripped her mother’s hand, upset, angry that she was upset, wishing she still didn’t mourn her, wishing she could separate the queen from the mother.

Then she heard Wyatt’s yell.

She scrambled to her feet, turning. Flynn was dealing with the armies, the battle spilling into the chamber properly now, but Wyatt and Emma were still duking it out, and Emma had just slashed across Wyatt’s side, the sword biting into the soft part between his armor. Wyatt wasn’t suited up properly, he was only wearing some of his leather armor, not the proper steel, and he yelled in pain.

No.

Lucy scrambled for a discarded sword—there were plenty around now that Flynn had roasted most of the knights—and advanced on Emma.

Wyatt fell to one knee. Lucy saw Flynn turn, catch them out of the corner of his eye, and give an angry roar.

“Don’t worry,” Emma cooed. “You’ll die protecting your princess. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“I won’t,” Wyatt said through gritted teeth.

“You won’t what?”

Wyatt caught Lucy’s eyes behind Emma’s back. “I won’t die.”

Lucy hefted up the sword and charged, slamming it into Emma with all of her might.

Emma screamed, staring down at the weapon that had run her through.

Lucy felt a little sick.

Emma fruitlessly grabbed at the sword, her hands clumsy. She turned and looked at Lucy, anger blazing in her eyes. “You—”

Lucy stepped up to her. She grabbed the pommel of the blade and _twisted_ , black, ugly anger surging up in her chest. “You shouldn’t have touched my sister.”

Emma collapsed, dead before she hit the floor.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt had definitely been injured before. But this… this was worse.

Emma had cut deep. He pressed his hands to the wound, but could already feel himself getting lightheaded.

He heard Lucy yelling as if from very far away, and then suddenly she was there, catching him, laying his head in her lap. “Wyatt, hey, look at me. Look at me.”

He did. She had blood on her. “You’re okay.”

“I told you I didn’t need protecting.” She stroked his face, her eyes full of the fear she didn’t want to voice.

He wanted to tell her that it was all right. She was safe, and that was what mattered. Flynn would protect her. Carol was dead, and he’d get to see Jess again, on the other side.

“Idiot, couldn’t keep yourself from getting stabbed for two seconds?”

Flynn’s face swam into view as he hauled Wyatt into his arms, his hands carefully tearing away the leather armor and fabric to inspect the wound. “Lucy, they’re winning out there. Your people will want you to greet them.”

“But…”

Flynn reached across, cupping Lucy’s face in his hand. “I’ll look after him, I promise. He won’t die on my watch.”

“Thank you,” Lucy whispered. “For trusting me.”

Wyatt didn’t think anyone could have missed the look of devotion on Flynn’s face. Lucy didn’t, apparently, because she turned her face and kissed his palm.

Then she looked down at herself. “I look a mess.”

“You look like someone who fought for the throne,” Flynn told her. “That’s worth more to them than any bloodline.”

Lucy blushed, but she looked like she actually believed what Flynn was saying. She stood up, smoothing down her blood-spattered, torn dress as best she could, and then turned, taking a deep breath.

Wyatt’s eyesight went blurry again and Flynn shook him. “No, no, no, Wyatt, you’re staying right here with us.” Flynn started cleaning the wound, pressing his hands to it.

Wyatt coughed. “What, because you can heal wounds now?”

“Because I lost one mate and I’m not losing another,” Flynn growled. “Not if I have to feed you my damn life force.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I can feel your pain, and Lucy’s,” Flynn replied. “I could feel Lorena’s when she died. If I’d been closer—if I’d been there, instead of off—if I’d been close enough—maybe my strength could have saved her. But I’m here, and as long as I’m alive so are you.”

“You—are really shit—at this whole courting thing,” Wyatt coughed. “Staring—at us—for two months and then… being the most annoyingly flirtatious person ever… and then neglecting—to mention that you fucking bonded to us.”

“Lorena said something along those lines as well if I’m remembering correctly,” Flynn admitted.

Wyatt stared up at him. He’d loved Lucy for as long as he could remember and it had never gone away, not truly. He’d loved her even while he’d loved Jess. Perhaps it wasn’t so crazy that he could love Lucy and feel… something… for Flynn as well.

“Stop thinking,” Flynn told him, even as Wyatt heard a massive cheer go up in the courtyard outside. Flynn kissed him on the temple. “Just, for once, Wyatt, stop thinking.”

Wyatt remembered Lucy saying she loved him, and the way she looked at Flynn. The way it had felt when Flynn had come onto him in the hallway, how his body had burned.

“Make me.”

Flynn pressed his mouth against Wyatt’s and did just that.

 

* * *

 

King Nicholas lay, weak but recovering, in his bedchambers. Now that Emma was no longer feeding him poison, his body was slowly regaining its strength.

A shadow detached itself from the wall. It was night, and the only light came from the stars and moon shining in through the window, but it was enough for Nicholas to see the man’s profile. He was tall, with a hawk nose and dark, unfathomable eyes, and a weather-beaten face that suggested he was actually much older than his forty some-odd looks and battle-hardened physique suggested.

“It’s been a long time,” the man said.

Nicholas felt as though he should know the man. There was something familiar about him.

The man approached, and it was probably just a trick of an old man’s eyes, but it almost looked as though his shadow had wings.

The man sat at the edge of the bed. “Don’t you recognize me, Nicholas? I should have thought you’d know the man who scorched your castle immediately.”

Nicholas struggled to sit up. “The dragon.”

The man’s eyes gleamed, flashing with fire. “Yes.”

“Come to kill me, have you?”

The man cocked his head at him. “Do you know where I came from?”

Nicholas paused. “Whatever cave you’ve been lurking in like a coward all these years.”

The man shook his head. “No.” He leaned in, his breath unnaturally hot, like flames licking at Nicholas’s face. “Your granddaughter’s bedchamber.”

Nicholas lunged at the man trying to strike him, but the man just leaned back out of the way. “Don’t worry, she’s quite safe.”

“You—you seduced her—”

“I think you’ll find it was the other way around,” the man growled. “And this time, you won’t be taking my family from me. Not my mates, and not any children we may have.

“I didn’t come here to take your granddaughter from you. Falling in love with her wasn’t part of the plan. But I know it must pain you to know that I’m with her. That the—what was it you called my blood? Vile lizard’s blood, that was it—knowing that will flow through the generations of your family that come after…”

The man smiled. “Well. A more fitting revenge than if I’d planned it.”

Nicholas was choking with rage, but the man calmly held up his hand—which had transformed, now a dragon’s paw with sharp, elongated claws. “But I’m afraid you won’t live much longer to stew in your anger. Because unlike you, I don’t make the mistake of hurting my enemy and letting him live.”

He placed the claws right at Nicholas’s throat. His eyes blazed. “You should have killed me with my wife and child.”

Then he drove them through the soft skin.

 

* * *

 

Lucy stirred as Flynn slid back into bed. “Mmm. Bed’s cold without you.”

She climbed practically on top of him as he settled himself, fitting an arm around Wyatt’s torso and tucking Wyatt into his side, watching as Wyatt’s furrowed brow smoothed out, nuzzling into Flynn’s shoulder without waking up.

“Do you feel better?” Lucy whispered.

He had told her what he was planning. What he had planned when he’d finally dragged himself out of his grief, when he’d set up a false backstory as a lord and had stationed himself in court. He had been going to kill Nicholas almost immediately, but seeing Lucy and Wyatt, their schemes and their passion, their determination and youthful, vibrant liveliness, had derailed it and he’d settled back instead to watch them.

But now Nicholas had to die so that Lucy could be queen in proper.

Flynn thought about it. If he felt better, now that he’d killed the man who’d hunted down his mate and hatchling.

“I feel better,” he admitted, “but I think… it would have been a hollow victory. If I didn’t have someone to come back to.”

Lucy smiled at him, curling up on his chest like a cat with cream, touching her nose to his. “Well lucky you, you’ve got two people to come back to.”

Flynn smiled as she kissed him. They said dragons hoarded things, but while Lucy and Wyatt were far from objects, it could be said that he hoarded them, as well. Craved them. And he’d make sure the news spread far and wide—the new Queen Lucy and her knight consort had a protector. A ferocious one. And woe betide anyone who tried to go after them.

They’d learn what dragon fire meant.


End file.
